


The Day Before You Came

by telemachus



Series: Gigolas zoo-verse AU [6]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crush, First Love, M/M, Zookeeper AU, absurdly hopeful
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-03
Updated: 2015-12-03
Packaged: 2018-05-04 17:37:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5342648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/telemachus/pseuds/telemachus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snapshot moment of life before everything changed, sort of prequel to the zoo-verse.</p><p>Or, a short exploration of unreliable narrating, which seems to be a feature of this AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Day Before You Came

**Author's Note:**

  * For [consumptive_sphinx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/consumptive_sphinx/gifts).



> A gift for Snow, who expressed an interest in modern-Aglarcu. Possibly not what you had in mind, sorry about that, it just happened.....  
> Happy Holidays anyway.
> 
>  
> 
> Title from the Abba song, of course,
> 
> My life was well within its usual frame.....  
> It's funny, but I had no sense of living without aim,  
> The Day Before You Came.

“You want a taxi calling?” he asks, afterwards, “or stay – it’s late – mind, Aglarcu, I’m up early, so might not suit?”

Oh you fool, you fool, of course it suits me – whatever, whenever – the longer you will let me stay, the more time I can have with you – but I am not idiot enough to say it.

I shrug, trying to match his casual ease,

“I’ll stay – I’ve stuff to do tomorrow, early start wouldn’t be a bad idea,” and I curl round him as he sets his alarm.

“You never said,” he adds, “what are you up to now – college term is over, isn’t it? You working? Thought you’d be off home.”

You fool. Why would I go home – you are here. Can you really not see?

I run my hand through his hair again, beautiful, just like the rest of him, perfect and wonderful, and so – oh God – so gorgeous.

“Not much scene at home,” I say, knowing he will understand that, “I’d be borrowing a car, driving for an hour to go to a bar I’m too young to be served in, hang about looking at guys – well – guys I wouldn’t even let buy me a drink here. Fuck that.”

He laughs, and runs a hand over me,

“Bloody silly law,” he says, musing, “still can’t get used to that one. You’re old enough to drive, old enough to get laid – but you can’t sodding drink. Weird fucking country.”

“Oh, here we go,” I know him, know this tune, “so weird, but I don’t see you leaving. Don’t tell me, crap beer, weird people, the spellings for shit, what else this time?”

“Twat,” he says, and I have to remind myself he means it affectionately, “colonial twat. Don’t know why I put up with you, why I brought you back here really. Should have just shagged you in the gents.”

He does it on purpose, I think, uses the words that point up his accent the most.

Knows how fucking gorgeous he is, how that voice gets me – and half the state, I suppose – hot.

I bat my eyelids, there’s light enough from the streetlight to make it worthwhile,

“I could show you, if you like; I’m up for another round.”

He laughs again,

“Hussy,” he says, and that’s a new one, “shameless hussy. Oh fuck – yes – like that, sweetheart, just like that.”

He called me sweetheart.

Something in me flips, even as I wonder what it means to him.

I’ve heard him call people ‘love’ and ‘darling’ so many, many times – is sweetheart just another word?

But then – then he is on me, and in me, and I – I don’t care.

I love you, Caradhil. You don’t want to hear it, not yet, but I love you.

And when he sleeps, sleeps the sleep of the truly well-fucked, I can lie warm against him, and imagine that one day, one day, he’ll see.

 

 

 

 

The alarm goes, and he hustles me out of bed, 

“Come on, shower if you want, then off,” he says, “no breakfast today, sunshine, no time.”

Drying, dressing, I can’t help watching him – beautiful, wonderful, perfect. It’s been nearly a year that I’ve known him, a year of my life – not long, I suppose – but – I can’t get enough of him. I don’t think that will change, not ever. I’m in love – I have been since he first smiled at me – since I came back here the first time, first week I was in college and – and learnt all I’d ever want to know.

I don’t care that he’s older, or British, or not really interested in boyfriends. He isn’t, I know that, I can see it for myself even if his friends hadn’t all, one after another, taken me aside to tell me. 

He thinks he isn’t. It’s just because he lost his parents young, I tell myself, he just feels – afraid to commit. That’s all. He doesn’t know how to trust, how to really talk to someone about his feelings, how to open up – it will take time.

I have time. All the time in the world, for him.

“See you later?” I ask, as he hurries me out, looking at his watch, “Usual bar – or where?”

“Hmm?” he looks at me, shrugs, shakes his head, “I don’t know, love, I’ve got a hell of a day. I’ll be around – catch up with you at some point. Now, sweetie, shift your perfect arse.”

“Why?” I’m hanging on his arm, rubbing against him, I know he likes that, “what’s happening today? Give me a day-ticket – I’ll come by at lunch, brighten your office – you liked that before?”

He – he shakes me off – looks almost cross,

“Fucks sake sunshine,” he says, “no. Told you – didn’t I? – the new owner’s coming. I’ve not met him before – got to make a good impression. Hence the clothes,” and yes, he does look a lot smarter than usual, “he’s a businessman, not a zoo-lover. Now, be a good boy, and run along.”

He does give me a quick kiss though.

And I’ve never heard him call anyone else ‘sunshine’. That must be good, surely? 

Sunshine.

Sounds nice. Sounds like – like I make him feel happy.

The thought of it keeps me warm all day.


End file.
